The Haunting of Sam

Here is my experience and how I now understand it.
30 years ago, after years of being bombarded with thoughts from childhood; of disappointment, of shame, of loneliness, and eventually a hopelessness. I was so lied to by my own thoughts I found myself without hope. My past didn’t indicate what my future could, or would be, and I only believed the lies that it would never get any better and the only way to stop the pain would be to take my own life. I was 17…

Fast-forward 30 years, I was given the opportunity to gain an entirely new perspective.
While visiting my Gram, I got to meet her new neighbor. As we sat on her front porch it didn’t take long for her to start a conversation with, ‘I don’t know why I feel like I can tell you this but I haven’t told anyone and I need help.’ I had no idea how this conversation was going to go.
She said, ‘I know this sounds crazy but have you ever heard or had a thought in your head that scared you? Or that came from somewhere that you had no idea the source? Have you ever had your own thoughts in your head… just startle you?’
I knew exactly what she was talking about. She began to share with me that she didn’t even know if she believed in this kind of stuff but there were some spooky things going on in their new house. She explained that she had an overwhelming depression that she had never felt before and all of a sudden out of the blue a voice that was telling her “You should just hang yourself”…. She said, ‘Stacey, I never had that thought before a couple of months ago, and it scares me.’
She began to explain the concerns that she had around even her husband; his behavior was becoming odd and even to the point of hostile. She said there were times when she would look in his eyes and she didn’t even know if she was looking at her husband, because what was looking back at her she didn’t recognize and that scared her.

Her mother got sick with Cancer and was diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer’s a year earlier. She and her husband sold their farm and bought this house. It had bedrooms on the first floor and was closer to town and the doctors that they would need to get her mother to on a regular basis. The first few months seemed normal as they were busy getting settled, and then her Mom moved in.
It wasn’t long before her mom started telling her about a young boy that visited her at night. My friend asked her mom clarifying questions thinking maybe she was confused, and thought she was talking about her Grandson’s that had visited the day before…maybe the Alzheimer’s was worse than they thought, she would tell herself and brush it off.

Her mother insisted that this is a young boy she had never seen before and he would sit all night by her bedside, sweetly stroking her hand holding it and just talking to her all night. She came each morning to the kitchen table looking worse off than the day before. Her body started deteriorating from the lack of sleep. She started sleeping during the day because she claimed this boy would visit her every night all night. Her mother claimed she wasn’t crazy and she felt like no one believed her. She said this boy was so sad that she was afraid to ask him to leave because she didn’t want to break his heart anymore than it was already broken.

One morning my friend was outside and one of the neighbors came out to meet and talk to her. They had been in the house now about six months and the woman apologized that they hadn’t gotten over sooner to welcome them to the neighborhood. The woman started asking questions about the house which concerned my friend. The woman asked, ‘So how’s the house? Anything going on in there?’ Not connecting it to the boy and her mom she automatically assumed it was the plumbing, the roof, or the electrical that there was something that this woman knew about the house, that they should be aware of. ‘No everything’s fine. Is there something we should know about?’ The woman became uncomfortable and tried to dismiss it and change the subject. My friend pushed and said, ‘No; what would be wrong with this house? Why do you ask?’
The woman, obviously uncomfortable, said to my friend, ‘Did the realtor tell you what happened in this house?’
After my friend pushed the woman to elaborate, she began to tell her a story that 30 years ago a young boy about 16 years of age shot himself and died in their house.
She immediately felt sick, but just smiled and said no, and that everything was fine.
When the neighbor left, my friend went back in the house to talk to her mom. She had assumed the way her mom talked about a young boy she had an image of a child, not a teenager.

‘Hey mom… You know that young boy who visits you every night? How old is he?’ ‘I don’t know; about 15 or 16…she replied. Then the conversation would always go back to how sad this kid was and and how her mom just worried for him.
My friend had no idea how to process all of this…It was crazy to her. Was she really open to the idea of a ghost in her own house?
The visits continued every night until her mother passed away.
My friend said months went by with no talk of the boy who visited her Mom. Things seemed peaceful. They were settling into their new normal without Cancer, Alzheimer’s, caregiving, and doctor’s appointments. Things seemed like they were getting better.
Then the voices started….’You should just hang yourself.’
After we finished talking on her porch, I ran back over to my Gram’s to help make dinner. We were standing in the kitchen and I was telling her about how much I enjoyed talking to her neighbor and what a sweet lady she was. I asked my Gram, ‘did you know the people who lived there before?’ She began to tell me about how sad it was that the family had lost their son, who had committed suicide in the house as a teenager many years ago.
‘I know. Your neighbor was just telling me the whole story. How she found out from one of the other neighbors that there was a suicide in the house and that this young kid had shot himself almost 30 years ago.’ My Gram said, ‘No.. No… No… he didn’t shoot himself, he hung himself upstairs in the loft.’ ‘Are you sure he hung himself, Gram?’ I asked. ‘He didn’t shoot himself?’ ‘No. They got the story wrong. It was heart breaking the way those parents found their son hanging.’. . . . freaking hookah!…did I really hear that right? ‘I will be right back!!!!’ And ran to the neighbor. Omg!! She almost fell over….’Stacey, I have been hearing “I should hang myself” for months and now I am really scared…. What is in my house?’

She didn’t know why, but felt compelled to ask me if I could help get rid of whatever this was that was literately trying to kill her. She didn’t know it, but I did know a little bit about this stuff and about prayer and how it works. She also didn’t know that this was the third time in six weeks that I had been asked about this kind of stuff just out of the blue, or so I thought. In fact, I had an awkward conversation with the dog groomer three days earlier on this kind of stuff and didn’t understand why people were coming out of the woodwork and asking. It always started with…’ I don’t know why, but I feel like I can talk to you about this…’ Even to me this just seemed odd.

So my son and I walked through the house, storming from room to room. You could feel an almost sinister presence in the house along with an extreme heaviness that I felt I might be way out of my league, but what was I going to do? Nothing? Commanding this thing to go. Sending it away packing. We went through this huge house with five bedrooms and three stories and when we approached the last room, I just stopped. I stop shouting. I stop yelling. I stop taking authority. I stop commanding. I just felt like I heard God say, ‘This is different. Be still, and listen.’ I stood at the threshold of the doorway almost frozen. You could feel the atmosphere completely change and there was just such a sadness, and felt like God was saying to me, ‘This is different because what is in this room is a victim of what is out there. The lies that he believed in life he still believes in death.’ That day I fell in love with God all over again as He messed with my religion. He asked me to go in that room and love all over that kid and tell him the truth of how God adored him, and the only thing that separated him from God were the lies that he still believes.
It became apparent that whatever was attacking my friend with suggestions of hanging herself was the same thing that had attacked that kid so long ago.

I entered the room. I sat down on the bed and I talked directly to him. I started to point out the lies that he believed and that he didn’t belong here. I also got a feel for what the house must’ve been like 30 years ago after the suicide and his Catholic parents’ inconsolable because they had been taught that their son was doomed to an eternity in Hell for what he had done. He was stuck in the lie that THEY believed, too. How can God’s grace be sufficient, except for when you are at your lowest and most deceived? That’s nuts!
I got this image of this kid. 16 years old. He took his own life and here he is stuck, tremendously sad and trapped, just as he was when he took his life. It struck me things didn’t get better and his pain didn’t go away. He was tormented and all alone… and for a short time had the comfort and company of an 80 year old woman. He was in his own personal hell. He was stuck still believing the lies that killed him.
At some point it hit me, and it hit me hard. This boy, who I affectionately named Sam, was my age. You see, 30 years ago when he was 16 and killed himself I was 17 and had tried. Sam and I were supposed to have the same future according to the lies that we heard. Only I made it through while he did not. I was never supposed to be here making this video or writing a blog, I was supposed to be dead and haunting a cute bungalow in Winter Park, Florida.

So let’s talk about this, Sweets. If you give up and give in, then they’ve won.

Let’s figure out the truth and get set free. We can stand up to the bully.

You really want to fuck with the Demons that are trying to kill you?

Decide to live! Finding our truth is powerful and exposing their lies leaves them powerless.

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One thought on “The Haunting of Sam ”

Stacy – you are on the right track with this one! This was engaging and kept me interested. Keep your stories to a beginning, middle and end. You are one of the best story tellers. Just stay on topic and always prepare. You can prepare and still seem natural. I really enjoyed this one. Love you!